Chapter L: Book II (2)

Upon this disputed question, a feeling of perplexity comes unavoidably upon every one. It would argue a very irrational mind not to wonder how a small piece of the Earth, if suspended in the air, is carried downward and will not stop of itself, and the larger piece is carried downward more quickly than the smaller; while nevertheless the entire Earth, if suspended in like manner, would not be so carried. In spite of its great weight, it remains stationary (s. 6). But the solutions of this problem which some suggest are more strange and full of perplexity, and it is surprising that they have not been so considered. The Kolophonian Xenophanes affirmed that the lower depths of the Earth were rooted downwards to infinity, in order to escape the troublesome obligation of looking for a reason why it remained stationary. Others say, that the Earth rests upon water, floating thereupon like wood: this is an ancient doctrine promulgated by Thales; as if there were not as much perplexity about the water which supports the Earth, as there is about the Earth itself. For it is not the nature of water to remain suspended, but always to rest upon something (s. 7). Moreover, air is lighter than water, and water lighter than earth; how then can these men think that the substance naturally lighter can lie below the substance naturally heavier? Besides, if it were the nature of the whole Earth to remain resting on water, it must be the nature of each part of the Earth to do the same; but this does not happen: each part of the earth is carried down to the bottom, and the greater part more quickly than the less (s. 8).

All these philosophers carry their researches to a certain point, but not to the bottom of the problem. It is indeed a habit with all of us to conduct our enquiries not with reference to the problem itself, but with reference to our special opponents. If we have no opponent but are conducting our investigations alone, we pursue them as far as that point where we can make no farther objections to ourselves. Whoever therefore intends to investigate completely must take care to make objections to himself upon all the points of objection which really belong to the subject; and this he can only do after having thoroughly surveyed all the differences of opinion and doctrine (s. 9).

The reason why the Earth remains at rest, Anaximenes, Anaxagoras, and Demokritus, declare to be its breadth or flatness ([Greek: to\ pla/tos]): it does not (they say) divide the air beneath, but covers over the air like a lid ([Greek: ou) ga\r te/mnein, a)ll' e)pipômati/zein to\n a)e/ra to\n ka/tôthen]); as we see that flat and spreading bodies usually do, being difficult to be moved and making strong resistance even against the winds. The Earth does the same, through its flatness, against the air beneath, which remains at rest there (in the opinion of these philosophers) because it finds no sufficient place into which to travel, like water in a _klepsydra_: they also produce many evidences to show that air thus imprisoned, while remaining stationary, can support a heavy weight (s. 10).

Now, in the first place, these men affirm that, unless the shape of the Earth were flat, it would not remain at rest. Yet on their own showing it is not alone the flat shape of the earth which causes it to remain at rest, but rather its magnitude. For the air beneath remains _in situ_ by reason of its vast mass, finding no means of escape through the narrow passage: and the mass of the air is thus vast, because it is imprisoned inside by the great magnitude of the Earth; which effect will be produced in the same manner, even though the Earth be spherical, provided it be of its present magnitude. Moreover, philosophers who hold this opinion about the motion of the Earth, think only of its motion as a whole, and take no account of its parts. For they ought to define at the first step whether bodies have or have not one special mode of motion by nature; and, if none by nature, then whether they have any mode of motion violent or contra-natural. I have already determined this point as well as my powers admitted, and shall therefore assume the results as settled. If there be no special motion natural to bodies, neither will there be any which is contra-natural or violent; and, if there be none either natural or violent, no body will be moved at all. I have already shown that this is a necessary consequence; and, farther, that (upon that supposition) there can be no body even at rest; for rest, like motion, is either natural or contra-natural; and, if there be any special mode of motion which is natural, neither contra-natural motion, nor contra-natural rest, can stand alone (ss. 11-13).

Let us then assume (reasoning on the hypothesis of these philosophers) that the Earth now remains in its present place contrary to nature, and that it was carried into aggregation at the centre by the revolution of the Kosmos (also contrary to nature--[Greek: kai\ sunê=lthen e)pi\ to\ me/son pherome/nê dia\ tê\n di/nêsin]--s. 14). For all those who recognize a generation of the Kosmos assign this revolution as the cause which determined the aggregation of the Earth at the centre, upon the analogy of particles carried round in liquids or in air, where the larger and heavier particles are always carried to the centre of the revolution. They profess thus to know the cause which determined the Earth to _come to_ the centre; but what they seek to find out is the cause which determines it to remain there, and upon that they differ: some saying, as has been stated just now, that its breadth and magnitude is the cause; others, with Empedokles, ascribing the fact to the revolution of the Heaven, the extreme velocity of which checks the fall of the Earth downward, just as water in a cup may be whirled rapidly round without falling to the ground. But suppose absence of these two causes: in which direction will the Earth be naturally carried? Not to the centre; for (upon the doctrine which we are now criticising) its motion to the centre, and its remaining at the centre, are both of them contra-natural; but some special mode of motion, natural to the Earth, there must necessarily be. Is this upward, or downward, or in what other direction? If there be no greater tendency downward than upward, and if the air above does not hinder the Earth from tending upward, neither will the air beneath hinder it from tending downwards: the same causes produce the same effects, operating on the same matter (ss. 14, 15).

A farther argument becomes applicable, when we are reasoning against Empedokles. When the four elements were first separated out of their confused huddle by the influence of Contention, what was the cause for the Earth to remain still and _in situ_? Empedokles cannot claim to introduce then the agency of the cosmical revolution. Moreover, it is strange that he should not have reflected that in the first instance the particles and fragments of the Earth were carried to the centre. But what is the cause now that every thing having weight is carried towards the Earth? It cannot be the revolution of the Heaven which brings these things nearer to us (s. 16).

Again, Fire is carried upward. What is the cause of this? The revolution of the Heaven cannot cause it. But, if it be the nature of fire to be carried in one certain direction, it must be equally the nature of Earth to be carried in one certain direction. Light and heavy, also, are not discriminated by the heavenly revolution. There are matters originally heavy, and matters originally light: the former are carried to the centre, the latter to the circumference, each by its own special motion. Even prior to the heavenly revolution there existed things intrinsically light and intrinsically heavy; which are discriminated by certain attributes--a certain natural mode of motion and a certain place. In infinite space, there can be no upward and downward; and it is by this (local distinction) that light and heavy are discriminated (ss. 17, 18).

While most philosophers insist upon the causes just noticed why the Earth remains stationary where it is, there are others, like Anaximander, among the ancients, who say that it remains so because of its likeness or equality ([Greek: dia\ tê\n o(moio/tera]--equal tendency in all directions). That which is situated in the centre (they say) and which has like relation to the extreme parts (_i.e._, like to _all_ the extreme parts) ought not to be carried any more upward or downward or sideways; and it cannot be moved in opposite directions at once; so that it remains stationary by necessity (s. 19).

This doctrine is ingenious, but not true. For the property affirmed is noway peculiar to the Earth: the affirmation is, that every thing which is placed at the centre must of necessity remain there; so that Fire also would remain there at rest, as well as Earth. But this necessity must be denied. For it is shown by observation that the Earth not only remains at the centre, but is carried to the centre; since each part of it is carried thither, and, whithersoever the parts are carried, the whole is carried necessarily to the same point. The peculiar property of the earth therefore is, not (as this hypothesis declares) to have like relation to all the extreme parts--for that is common to all the elements--but to be carried towards the centre (ss. 20, 21).

Moreover, it is absurd to investigate why the Earth remains at the centre, and not to investigate equally why Fire remains at the extremity. For, if you explain this last by saying that Fire has its natural place at the extremity, the Earth must have its natural place somewhere else. If the centre be not the natural place of the Earth, and if the Earth remains there through like tendency in all directions, like the hair in equal tension or the man both hungry and thirsty between food and drink, you must equally assign the reason why Fire remains at the extremity. It is singular too that you should try to explain only the _remaining at rest_ ([Greek: monê=s]) of the Earth, and not also seek to explain the natural current ([Greek: phora/])--why Earth is carried downward, and Fire upward, when there is no opposing force (s. 22).

Nor can it be admitted that the doctrine is true. Thus much indeed is true by accident--that every thing which has no greater obligation to be moved in this direction than in that, must necessarily remain at the centre. But this is true only so long as it remains a compact whole; for, according to the theory which we are discussing, it will not remain stationary, but will be moved: not indeed as a whole, but dispersed into parts (s. 23: [Greek: a)lla\ mê\n ou)de\ a)lêthe/s e)sti to\ lego/menon. kata\ sumbebêko\s me/ntoi tou=to/ ge a)lêthe/s, ô(s a)nagkai=on me/nein e)pi\ tou= me/sou pa=n, ô(=| mêthe\n ma=llon deu=ro ê( deu=ro kinei=sthai prosê/kei. a)lla\ dia/ ge tou=ton to\n lo/gon ou) menei= a)lla\ kinêthê/setai; ou) me/ntoi o(/lon, a)lla\ diespasme/non.]--I understand [Greek: kata\ sumbebêko/s] to mean, subject to the condition of its remaining a compact whole). For the same reasoning would apply to Fire as well as to Earth: it would prove that Fire, if placed at the centre, will remain there just as much as Earth, because Fire will have like relation to each point of the extreme periphery. Yet nevertheless it will (not remain at the centre, but will) be carried away, if not impeded, as we observe that it is carried in fact, to the periphery; only not all to one and the same point of the periphery, but corresponding portions of the Fire to corresponding portions of the periphery: I mean, that the fourth part (_e.g._) of the Fire will be carried to the fourth part of the periphery; for a point is no real part of bodies ([Greek: ou)the\n ga\r stigmê\ tô=n sôma/tôn e)sti/n]). This is the only necessary consequence flowing from the principle of likeness of relation. As, if supposed to be put all together at the centre, it would contract from a larger area into a smaller, so, when carried away from the centre to the different parts of the periphery, it would become rarer and would expand from a smaller area into a larger. In like manner the Earth also would be moved away from the centre, if you reason upon this principle of likeness of relation, and if the centre were not the place belonging to it by nature (s. 24).

CH. 14.--Having thus reported the suppositions of others respecting the figure, place, rest and motion, of the Earth, I shall now deliver my own opinion, first, whether it is in motion or at rest; for some philosophers, as I have said, regard it as one of the stars (and therefore not in the centre, but moving round the centre--the Pythagorean theory); others (as Plato), though they place it in the centre, consider it to be packed and moved round the middle of the axis of the Kosmos ([Greek: oi( de\ e)pi\ tou= me/sou the/ntes, ei)lei=sthai kai\ kinei=sthai/ phasi peri\ to\n me/son po/lon]).

That neither of these hypotheses is possible, we shall perceive if we take as our point of departure--That, if the Earth be carried round, whether in the centre or apart from the centre, such motion must necessarily be violent or contra-natural. Such motion does not belong naturally to the Earth itself; for, if such were the fact, it would belong equally to each portion of the Earth, whereas we see that all these portions are carried in a straight line to the centre. Being thus violent or contra-natural, it cannot possibly be eternal. But the order of the Kosmos is eternal. Besides, all the bodies which are carried round in a circular revolution (all except the First or Outermost Sphere--the Aplanês) appear to observation as lagging behind and as being moved in more than one current. The like ought to happen with the Earth, if moved round, whether on the centre or apart from the centre: it ought to be moved in two currents; and, as a consequence thereof, there ought to be side-motions and back-turnings of the stars fastened in their sphere. But we see by observation that this does not happen; and that the same stars always rise and set at the same places of the Earth (s. 1).

Farthermore, the natural current both of the entire Earth and of each of its parts is towards the middle of the universe: this is the reason why it is at the centre, even though it happens to be actually there at present ([Greek: dia\ tou=to ga\r, ka)\n ei) tugcha/nei keime/nê nu=n e)pi\ tou= ke/ntrou]--he means that though actually there, it remains there not through any force of inertia or other cause, but because it has a natural current towards the centre). You might start a doubt, indeed, since the centre of the Universe coincides with the centre of the Earth, to which of the two it is that the current of heavy bodies naturally tends: whether they tend thereto because it is the centre of the Universe, or because it is the centre of the Earth. We must however necessarily suppose the former; since Fire and light bodies, whose current is the contrary of the current of heavy bodies, are carried to the extreme periphery of the Universe, or of that place which comprehends and surrounds the centre of the Universe (ss. 2, 3). But it happens ([Greek: sumbe/bêke]: it is an accompanying fact) that the same point is centre of the Universe and centre of the Earth; accordingly heavy bodies are carried by accident ([Greek: kata\ sumbebêko/s]--by virtue of this accompanying fact) to the centre of the Earth; and the proof that they are carried to this same point is, that their lines of direction are not parallel but according to similar angles (s. 4). That the Earth therefore is at the centre, and that it is at rest, we may see by the foregoing reasons, as well as by the fact, that stones thrown upwards to ever so great a height, are carried back in the same line of direction to the same point (s. 5).

We may see farther the cause why the Earth remains at rest. For, if its natural current be from all directions towards the centre, as observation shows, and that of Fire from the centre to the periphery,--no portion of it can possibly be carried away from the centre, except by violence. For to one body belongs one current of motion, and to a simple body a simple current--not the two opposite currents; and the current _from_ the centre is opposite to the current _to_ the centre. If, therefore, it be impossible for any portion of the Earth to be carried in a direction away from the centre, it is yet more impossible for the whole Earth to be so; for the natural current of each part is the same as that of the whole. Accordingly, since the Earth cannot be moved except by a superior force or violence, it must necessarily remain stationary at the centre (s. 6). The same conclusion is confirmed by what we learn from geometers respecting astronomy; for all the phenomena of the Heavens--the changes in figure, order, and arrangement of the stars--take place as if the Earth were in the centre (s. 7).

The figure of the Earth is necessarily spherical. For each of its parts has gravity, until it reaches the centre; and the lesser part, pushed forward by the greater, cannot escape laterally, but must become more and more squeezed together, one part giving place to the other, until the centre itself is reached. We must conceive what is here affirmed as occurring in a manner like what some of the ancient physical philosophers tell us, except that _they_ ascribe the downward current to an extraneous force; whereas we think it better to state the truth, and to say that it occurs because _by nature_ all heavy bodies are carried towards the centre. Since, therefore, the preliminary Chaos or hotchpotch existed in power (or with its inherent powers existing though not exercised), the elements (those which had gravity), were carried from all sides equally towards the centre ([Greek: e)n duna/mei ou)=n o)/ntos tou= mi/gmatos, ta\ diakrino/mena e)phe/reto o(moi/ôs pa/ntothen pro\s to\ me/son]--this is an allusion to the doctrine of Anaxagoras); indeed, whether brought together at the centre equally from all the periphery or in any other manner, the result will be the same. If we suppose particles to be brought together at the centre equally from all sides, it is plain that the mass so formed will be regular and spherical; and, even if not equally from all sides, this will make no difference in the reasoning; for, since all portions of the mass have weight or tend to the centre, the larger portions will necessarily push the lesser before them as far as the centre (ss. 8, 9).

A difficulty here presents itself, which may be solved upon the same principles. The Earth being spherical, and at the centre, suppose that a vast additional weight were applied to either of its hemispheres. In that case, the centre of the Universe, and the centre of the Earth, would cease to coincide: either, therefore, the Earth will not remain at the centre; or, if it would still remain at rest, while not occupying the centre, it is in its nature to be moved even now (s. 10: [Greek: ô(/ste ê)\ ou) menei= e)pi\ tou= me/sou, ê)\ ei)/per ê)remê/sei ge kai\ mê\ to\ me/son e)/chousa ê)=|, pe/phuke kinei=sthai kai\ nu=n])--_i.e._, if the Earth _can_ be at rest when not at the centre, we must infer that the centre is not its natural place, and therefore that its nature will be to be moved from the centre towards that natural place wherever situated).

Such is a statement of the difficulty; but we shall see that it may be cleared up with a little attention. We must distinguish what we mean when we affirm that every particle having weight is carried towards the centre. We clearly do not mean that it will be so carried until the particles farthest from the centre shall touch the centre. We mean that the greater mass must press with preponderating force ([Greek: dei= kratei=n to\ plei=on e(/ôs a)\n la/bê| tô=| au(tou= me/sô| to\ me/son]) until its centre grasps the centre of the universe; up to this point its gravity will last; and this is equally true about any clod of earth as about the whole earth: large or small size makes no difference. Whether the whole Earth were carried in a mass from any given position, or whether it were carried in separate particles, in either case it would be carried onward until it embraced the centre equally on all sides; the smaller parts being equalized to the greater in gravitating tendency because they are pushed forward by the greater ([Greek: a)nisazome/nôn tô=n e)latto/nôn u(po\ tô=n meizo/nôn tê=| proô/sei]--s. 11). If, therefore, the Earth was ever generated, it must have been generated in this manner, and must thus acquire a spherical figure; and, even if it be ungenerable and stationary from everlasting, we must conceive its figure to be that which it would have acquired, if it had been generable and generated from the first ([Greek: ei)/te a)ge/nnêtos a)ei\ me/nousa, to\n au)to\n tro/pon e)/chein, o(/nper ka)\n ei) gignome/nê to\ prô=ton e)ge/neto]). That it must be spherical, we see not only from this reasoning, but also because all heavy bodies are carried towards it, not in parallel lines but, in equal angles. This is what naturally happens with what is either actually spherical, or by nature spherical. Now we ought to call every thing such as it by nature wishes to become and to be: we ought not to call it such as it is by force and contrary to nature (s. 12).

The same conclusion is established by the sensible facts within our observation. If the Earth had been of any other than spherical figure, the eclipses of the Moon would not have projected on the Sun the outlines which we now see. The moon in her configurations throughout the month takes on every variety of outline--rectilinear, double convex, and hollow. But in her eclipses the distinguishing line is always convex. Now this must necessarily be occasioned by the circumference of the Earth being spherical, since the eclipses of the Moon arise from the interposition of the Earth (s. 13).

Farthermore, we see from the visible phenomena of the stars not only that the Earth is spherical, but also that its magnitude is not great. For, when we change our position a little as observers, either to the north or to the south, we find the celestial horizon to be manifestly different. The stars at the zenith are greatly changed, and the same stars do not appear: some stars are visible in Egypt and Cyprus, but become invisible when we proceed farther north; and those which are constantly visible in the northern regions, are found to be not constantly visible, but to set, when the observer is in Egypt or Cyprus. The bulk of the Earth must therefore be small, when a small change of position is made so soon manifest to us (s. 14). Hence those who hold that the regions near the pillars of Herakles join on with India and that the ocean eastward and westward is one and the same, must not be supposed to talk extravagantly ([Greek: mê\ li/an u(polamba/nein a)/pista dokei=n]): they infer this from the presence of elephants alike at both extremities. Geometers who try to calculate the magnitude of the Earth, affirm that its circumference is 400,000 stadia.

It follows necessarily from all these reasonings, that the body of the Earth is not only of spherical form, but also not large compared with the magnitude of the other Stars (ss. 15, 16).

[The remaining two books of the treatise known by the title 'De Coelo,' while connected with the foregoing, are still more closely connected with the two Books composing the treatise entitled 'De Generatione et Corruptione.' The discussion carried on throughout the two treatises is in truth one; but, if anywhere broken, it is at the end of Book II. De Coelo, as above. From this point Aristotle proceeds to consider (in four Books) the particular phenomena presented by natural bodies--phenomena of Generation and Destruction (in the widest sense of these words)--dependent on the opposition of the upward and downward motions; bodies, thus light or heavy, being thence seen to be ultimately reducible to four elements variously combined. Treating of the Kosmos in its larger aspects, the first two Books of De Coelo, here abstracted, are obviously those that alone correspond strictly to the name of the treatise.]

V.

EPIKURUS

Our information from Epikurean writers respecting the doctrines of their sect is much less copious than that which we possess from Stoic writers in regard to Stoic opinions. We have no Epikurean writer on philosophy except Lucretius; whereas respecting the Stoical creed under the Roman Empire, the important writings of Seneca, Epictetus, and Marcus Antoninus, afford most valuable evidence.

The standard of Virtue and Vice is referred by Epikurus to Pleasure and Pain. Pain is the only evil, Pleasure is the only good. Virtue is no end in itself, to be sought; vice is no end in itself, to be avoided. The motive for cultivating virtue and banishing vice arises from the consequences of each, as the means of multiplying pleasures and averting or lessening pains. But to the attainment of this purpose, the complete supremacy of Reason is indispensable; in order that we may take a right comparative measure of the varieties of pleasure and pain, and pursue the course that promises the least amount of suffering.

This theory (taken in its most general sense, and apart from differences in the estimation of particular pleasures and pains), had been proclaimed long before the time of Epikurus. It is one of the various theories of Plato; for in his dialogue called Protagoras (though in other dialogues he reasons differently) we find it explicitly set forth and elaborately vindicated by his principal spokesman, Sokrates, against the Sophist Protagoras. It was also held by Aristippus (companion of Sokrates along with Plato) and by his followers after him, called the Kyrenaics. Lastly, it was maintained by Eudoxus, one of the most estimable philosophers contemporary with Aristotle. Epikurus was thus in no way the originator of the theory; but he had his own way of conceiving it, his own body of doctrine physical, cosmological, and theological, with which it was implicated, and his own comparative valuation of pleasures and pains.

Bodily feeling, in the Epikurean psychology, is prior in order of time to the mental element; the former is primordial, while the latter is derived from it by repeated processes of memory and association. But, though such is the order of sequence and generation, yet when we compare the two as constituents of happiness to the formed man, the mental element much outweighs the bodily, both as pain and as pleasure. Bodily pain or pleasure exists only in the present; when not felt, it is nothing. But mental feelings involve memory and hope, embrace the past as well as the future, endure for a long time, and may be recalled or put out of sight, to a great degree, at our discretion.

This last point is one of the most remarkable features of the Epikurean mental discipline. Epikurus deprecated the general habit of mankind in always hankering after some new satisfaction to come; always discontented with the present, and oblivious of past comforts as if they had never been. These past comforts ought to be treasured up by memory and reflection, so that they might become as it were matter for rumination, and might serve, in trying moments, even to counterbalance extreme physical suffering. The health of Epikurus himself was very bad during the closing years of his life. There remains a fragment of his last letter, to an intimate friend and companion, Idomeneus:--"I write this to you on the last day of my life, which, in spite of the severest internal bodily pains, is still a happy day, because I set against them in the balance all the mental pleasure felt in the recollection of my past conversations with you. Take care of the children left by Metrodorus, in a manner worthy of your demeanour from boyhood towards me and towards philosophy." Bodily pain might thus be alleviated, when it occurred; it might be greatly lessened in occurrence, by prudent and moderate habits; lastly, even at the worst, if violent, it never lasted long; if not violent, it might be patiently borne, and was at any rate terminated, or terminable at pleasure, by death.

In the view of Epikurus, the chief miseries of life arose, not from bodily pains, but partly from delusions of hope and exaggerated aspirations for wealth, honours, power, &c., in all which the objects appeared most seductive from a distance, inciting man to lawless violence and treachery, while in the reality they were always disappointments and generally something worse; partly, and still more, from the delusions of fear. Of this last sort, were the two greatest torments of human existence--fear of Death and of eternal suffering after death, as announced by prophets and poets, and fear of the Gods. Epikurus, who did not believe in the continued existence of the soul separate from the body, declared that there could never be any rational ground for fearing death, since it was simply a permanent extinction of consciousness. Death was nothing to us (he said): when death comes, _we_ are no more, either to suffer or to enjoy. Yet it was the groundless fear of this nothing that poisoned all the tranquillity of life, and held men imprisoned even when existence was a torment. Whoever had surmounted that fear was armed at once against cruel tyranny and against all the gravest misfortunes. Next, the fear of the gods was not less delusive, and hardly less tormenting, than the fear of death. It was a capital error (Epikurus declared) to suppose that the gods employed themselves as agents in working or superintending the march of the Kosmos; or in conferring favour on some men, and administering chastisement to others. The vulgar religious tales, which represented them in this character, were untrue and insulting as regards the gods themselves, and pregnant with perversion and misery as regards the hopes and fears of mankind. Epikurus believed sincerely in the gods; reverenced them as beings at once perfectly happy, immortal, and unchangeable; and took delight in the public religious festivals and ceremonies. But it was inconsistent with these attributes, and repulsive to his feelings of reverence, to conceive them as agents. The idea of agency is derived from human experience: we, as agents, act with a view to supply some want, to fulfil some obligation, to acquire some pleasure, to accomplish some object desired but not yet attained--in short, to fill up one or other of the many gaps in our imperfect happiness: the gods already _have_ all that agents strive to get, and more than agents ever do get; their condition is one not of agency, but of tranquil, self-sustaining, fruition. Accordingly, Epikurus thought (as Aristotle[1] had thought before him) that the perfect, eternal, and imperturbable well-being and felicity of the gods excluded the supposition of their being agents. He looked upon them as types of that unmolested safety and unalloyed satisfaction which was what he understood by pleasure or happiness, as objects of reverential envy, whose sympathy he was likely to obtain by assimilating his own temper and condition to theirs as far as human circumstances allowed.

[Footnote 1: Aristot. De Coelo, II. xii. p. 292, a. 22-b. 7: [Greek: e)/oike ga\r tô=| me\n a)/rista e)/chonti u(pa/rchein to\ eu)= a)/neu pra/xeôs, tô=| d' e)ggu/tata dia\ o)li/gês kai\ mia=s, toi=s de\ por)r(ôta/tô dia\ pleio/nôn,--tô=| d' ô(s a)/rista e)/chonti ou)the\n dei= pra/xeôs; e)/sti ga\r au)to\ to\ ou(= e(/neka, ê( de\ pra=xis a)ei/ e)stin e)n dusi/n, o(/tan kai\ ou(= e(/neka ê)=| kai\ to\ tou/tou e(/neka.] &c. Ibid. iii. p. 286, a. 9: [Greek: theou= d' e)ne/rgeia a)thanasi/a; tou=to d' e)sti\ zôê\ a)i+/dos], &c.

In the Ethica, Aristotle assigns theorizing contemplation to the gods, as the only process worthy of their exalted dignity and supreme felicity.]

These theological views were placed by Epikurus in the foreground of his ethical philosophy, as the only means of dispelling **those fears of the gods that the current fables instilled into every one, and that did so much to destroy human comfort and security. He proclaimed that beings in immortal felicity neither suffered vexation in themselves nor caused vexation to others; neither showed anger nor favour to particular persons. The doctrine that they were the working managers in the affairs of the Kosmos, celestial and terrestrial, human and extra-human, he not only repudiated as incompatible with their attributes, but declared to be impious, considering the disorder, sufferings, and violence, everywhere visible. He disallowed all prophecy, divination, and oracular inspiration, by which the public around him believed that the gods were perpetually communicating special revelations to individuals, and for which Sokrates had felt so peculiarly thankful.

It is remarkable that Stoics and Epikureans, in spite of their marked opposition in dogma or theory, agreed so far in practical results, that both declared these two modes of uneasiness (fear of the gods and fear of death) to be the great torments of human existence, and both strove to remove or counterbalance them.

So far the teaching of Epikurus appears confined to the separate happiness of each individual, as dependent upon his own prudence, sobriety, and correct views of Nature. But this is not the whole of the Epikurean Ethics. The system also considered each man as in companionship with others: the precepts were shaped accordingly, first as to Justice, next as to Friendship. In both, these, the foundation whereon Epikurus built was Reciprocity--not pure sacrifice to others, but partnership with others, beneficial to all. He kept the ideas of self and of others inseparably knit together in one complex association: he did not expel or degrade either, in order to give exclusive ascendancy to the other. The dictate of Natural Justice was, that no man should hurt another: each was bound to abstain from doing harm to others; each, on this condition, was entitled to count on security and relief from the fear that others would do harm to him. Such double aspect, or reciprocity, was essential to social companionship: those that could not, or would not, accept this covenant, were unfit for society. If a man does not behave justly towards others, he cannot expect that they will behave justly towards him; to live a life of injustice, and expect that others will not find it out, is idle. The unjust man cannot enjoy a moment of security. Epikurus laid it down explicitly, that just and righteous dealing was the indispensable condition to every one's comfort, and was the best means of attaining it.

The reciprocity of Justice was valid towards all the world; the reciprocity of Friendship went much farther: it involved indefinite and active beneficence, but could reach only to a select few. Epikurus insisted emphatically on the value of friendship, as a means of happiness to both the persons so united. He declared that a good friend was another self, and that friends ought to be prepared, in case of need, to die for each other. Yet he declined to recommend an established community of goods among the members of his fraternity, as prevailed in the Pythagorean brotherhood: for such an institution (he said) implied mistrust. He recommended efforts to please and to serve, and a forwardness to give, for the purpose of gaining and benefiting a friend, and he even declared that there was more pleasure in conferring favours than in receiving them; but he was no less strenuous in inculcating an intelligent gratitude on the receiver. No one except a wise man (he said) knew how to return a favour properly.[2]

[Footnote 2: Seneca, Epist. p. 81.]

These exhortations to active friendship were not unfruitful. We know, even by the admission of witnesses adverse to the Epikurean doctrines, that the harmony among the members of the sect, with common veneration for the founder, was more marked and more enduring than that exhibited by any of the other philosophical sects. Epikurus himself was a man of amiable personal qualities: his testament, still remaining, shows an affectionate regard both for his surviving friends, and for the permanent attachment of each to the others as well as of all to the school. Diogenes Laertius tells us--nearly 200 years after Christ, and 450 years after the death of Epikurus--that the Epikurean sect still continued its numbers and dignity, having outlasted its contemporaries and rivals. The harmony among the Epikureans may be explained, not merely from the temper of the master, but partly from the doctrines and plan of life that he recommended. Ambition and love of power were discouraged; rivalry among the members for success, either political or rhetorical, was at any rate a rare exception; all were taught to confine themselves to that privacy of life and love of philosophical communion which alike required and nourished the mutual sympathies of the brotherhood. In regard to politics, Epikurus advised quiet submission to established authority, without active meddling beyond what necessity required.

Virtue and happiness, in the theory of Epikurus, were inseparable. A man could not be happy until he had surmounted the fear of death and the fear of gods instilled by the current fables, which disturbed all tranquillity of mind; until he had banished those factitious desires that pushed him into contention for wealth, power, or celebrity; nor unless he behaved with justice to all, and with active devoted friendship towards a few. Such a mental condition, which he thought it was in every man's power to acquire by appropriate teaching and companionship, constituted virtue; and was the sure as well as the only precursor of genuine happiness. A mind thus undisturbed and purified was sufficient to itself. The mere satisfaction of the wants of life, and the conversation of friends, became then felt pleasures: if more could be had without preponderant mischief, so much the better; but Nature, disburthened of her corruptions and prejudices, required no more to be happy. This at least was as much as the conditions of humanity admitted: a tranquil, undisturbed, innocuous, non-competitive fruition, which approached most nearly to the perfect happiness of the Gods.

When we read the explanations given by Epikurus and Lucretius of what the Epikurean theory really was, and compare them with the numerous attacks upon it made by opponents, we cannot but remark that the title and formula of the theory was ill-chosen, and really a misnomer. What Epikurus meant by Pleasure was not what most people meant by it, but something very different--a tranquil and comfortable state of mind and body; much the same as what Demokritus had expressed before him by the phrase [Greek: eu)thumi/a]. This last phrase would have expressed what Epikurus aimed at, neither more nor less. It would at least have preserved his theory from much misplaced sarcasm and aggressive rhetoric.

The Physics of Epikurus was borrowed in the main from the atomic theory of Demokritus, but modified by him in a manner subservient and contributory to his ethical scheme. To that scheme it was essential that those celestial, atmospheric, or terrestrial phenomena which the public around him ascribed to agency and purposes of the gods, should be understood as being produced by physical causes. An eclipse, an earthquake, a storm, a shipwreck, unusual rain or drought, a good or a bad harvest--and not merely these, but many other occurrences far smaller and more unimportant, as we may see by the eighteenth chapter of the 'Characters' of Theophrastus--were then regarded as visitations of the gods, requiring to be interpreted by recognized prophets, and to be appeased by ceremonial expiations. When once a man became convinced that all these phenomena proceeded from physical agencies, a host of terrors and anxieties would disappear from the mind; and this Epikurus asserted to be the beneficent effect and real recommendation of physical philosophy. He took little or no thought for scientific curiosity as a motive _per se_, which both Demokritus and Aristotle put so much in the foreground.

He composed a treatise called 'Kanonicon' (now lost), which seems to have been a sort of Logic of Physics--a summary of the principles of evidence. In his system, Psychology was to a great extent a branch--though a peculiar and distinct branch--of Physics, since the soul was regarded as a subtle but energetic material compound (air, vapour, heat, and another nameless ingredient), with its best parts concentrated in the chest, yet pervading and sustaining the whole body--still, however, depending for its support on the body, and incapable of separate or disembodied continuance.

Epikurus recognized, as the primordial basis of the universe, Atoms, Vacuum, and Motion. The atoms were material solid _minima_, each too small to be apprehended separately by sense; they had figure, magnitude, and gravity, but no other qualities. They were infinite in number, and ever moving in an infinite vacuum. Their motions brought them into various coalitions and compounds, resulting in the perceptible bodies of nature; each of which in its combined state acquired new, specific, different qualities. In regard to the primordial movements of the atoms, out of which these endowed compounds grew, Epikurus differed from Demokritus who supposed the atoms originally to move with an indefinite variety of directions and velocities, rotatory as well as rectilineal; whereas Epikurus maintained that the only original movement common to all atoms was one and the same--in the direction of gravity straight down, and all with equal velocity in the infinite void. But it occurred to him that, upon this hypothesis only, there could never occur any collisions or combinations of the atoms--nothing but continued and unchangeable parallel lines. Accordingly he modified it by saying that the line of descent was not strictly rectilinear, but that each atom deflected a little from the straight line, each in its own direction and degree; so that it became possible to assume collisions, resiliences, adhesions, combinations, among them, as it had been possible under the variety of original movements ascribed to them by Demokritus. The opponents of Epikurus derided this auxiliary hypothesis, affirming that he invented the individual deflection of each atom without assigning any cause, and only because he was perplexed by the mystery of man's freewill. But Epikurus was not more open to attack on this ground than other physical philosophers. Most of them (except perhaps the most consistent of the Stoic fatalists) believed that some among the phenomena of the universe occurred in regular and predictable sequence, while others were essentially irregular and unpredictable: each philosopher devised his hypothesis, and recognized some fundamental principle, to explain the latter class of phenomena as well as the former; thus, Plato admitted an invincible erratic necessity, Aristotle introduced Chance and Spontaneity, Demokritus multiplied indefinitely the varieties of atomic movements. The hypothetical deflection alleged by Epikurus was his way, not more unwarranted than the others, of providing a fundamental principle for the unpredictable phenomena of the universe. Among these are the volitional manifestations of men and animals; but there are many others besides, and there is no ground for believing that what is called the mystery of Free-Will (_i. e._, the question whether volition is governed by motives, acting upon a given state of the mind and body) was at all peculiarly present to his mind. Whatever theory may be adopted on this point, it is certain that the movements of an individual man or animal are not exclusively determined by the general law of gravitation, or by another cause extrinsic to himself; but to a great degree by his own separate volition, which is often imperfectly knowable beforehand and therefore not predictable. For these and many other phenomena, Epikurus provided a fundamental principle in his supplementary hypothesis of atomic deflection; and indeed not for these only, but also for the questions of opponents, how there could ever be any coalition between the atoms, if all followed only one single law of movement--rectilineal descent with equal velocity. Epikurus rejected the inexorable and all-comprehensive fatalism contained in the theories of some Stoics, though seemingly not construed in its full application even by them. He admitted a limited range of empire to Chance, or phenomena essentially irregular. But he maintained that the will, far from being among the phenomena essentially irregular, is under the influence of motives; for no man can insist more strenuously than he does (see the letter to Menoekeus) on the complete power of philosophy--if the student could be made to feel its necessity and desire the attainment of it, so as to meditate and engrain within himself sound views about the gods, death, and human life generally--to mould our volitions and character in a manner conformable to the exigencies of virtue and happiness.

All true belief, according to Epikurus, rested ultimately upon the impressions of sense, upon our internal feelings, and upon our correct apprehension of the meaning of terms. He did not suppose the significance of language to come by convention, but to be an inspiration of Nature, different among different people. The facts of sense were in themselves beyond all question. But truth, though founded upon these evidences, included various inferences, more than sense could directly testify. Even the two capital points of the Epikurean physical philosophy--Atoms and Void--were inferences from sense, and not capable of direct attestation. It was in these inferences, and in the superstructure built upon sense, that error was so frequently imposed upon us. We ought to test all affirmations or dogmas by the evidence of sensible phenomena; looking therein, if possible, for some positive grounds in support of them, but at any rate assuring ourselves that there were no grounds in contradiction of them, or, if there were such, rejecting the dogmas at once. Out of the particular impressions of sense, when often repeated, remembered, and compared, there grew certain general notions or anticipations ([Greek: prolê/pseis]), which were applied to interpret or illustrate any new case when it arose. These general notions were not inborn or intuitive, but gradually formed (as Aristotle and the Stoics also conceived them) out of frequent remembrances and association.

Besides those conclusions which could be fully proved by the evidentiary data just enumerated, Epikurus recognized admissible hypotheses, which awaited farther evidence confirmative or refutative ([Greek: to\ pro/smenon]), and also other matters occult or as yet unexplained ([Greek: ta\ a)/dêla]). Along with the intermediate or half-explained class, he reckoned those in which plurality of causes was to be invoked. A given effect might result from any one out of two, three, or more different causes, and there was often no counter-evidence of sense to exclude either of them in any particular case. This plural explanation ([Greek: to\ pleonachô=s]) was not so complete or satisfactory as the singular ([Greek: to\ monachô=s]); but it was often the best that we could obtain, and was quite sufficient, by showing a possible physical agency, to rescue the mind from those terrors of ignorance, which drove men to imagine visitations of the gods.

Epikurus agreed with Demokritus in believing that external objects produced their impressions on our senses by projecting thin images, outlines of their own shapes. He thought that the air was peopled with such images, which passed through it and still more through the infinite vacuum beyond it with prodigious velocity. Many of them became commingled, dissipated, recombined, during the transit, so that, when they reached us, the impressions produced were not conformable to any real object; hence the phenomena of dreams, madness, and the various delusions of waking men.

In setting forth the criterion of truth, Epikurus insisted chiefly upon the fundamental groundwork--particular facts of sense, as the data for proving or disproving general affirmations; and he had the merit of calling attention to refutative data as well as to probative. But, respecting the process of passing from these particulars to true generalities and avoiding the untrue, we can make out no clear idea from his writings that remain: his great work on Physical Philosophy is lost. It is certain that he disregarded the logical part of the process--the systematic study of propositions, and their relations of consistency with one another--which had made so prodigious a stride during his early years under Aristotle and Theophrastus. We can, indeed, detect in his remaining sentences one or two of those terms which Aristotle had stamped as technical in Logic; but he discouraged as useless all the verbal teaching and discussion of his day--all grammar, rhetoric, and dialectic, beyond the lowest minimum. He disapproved of the poets as promulgators of mischievous fables and prejudices, the rhetoricians as furnishing weapons for the misleading career of political ambition, the dialecticians as wasting their time in useless puzzles. None of them were serviceable in promoting either the tranquillity of the mind, or the happiness of life, or the acquisition of truth. He himself composed a great number of treatises and epistles, on subjects of ethics and philosophy; but he is said to have written in haste, without taking time or trouble to correct his compositions. By the Alexandrine critic, Aristophanes of Byzantium, his style was censured as unpolished; yet it is declared to have been simple, unaffected, and easily understood. This last predicate is hardly applicable to the three epistles which alone remain from his pen; but those epistles are intended as brief abstracts of doctrine, on topics which he had already treated at length in formal works; and it is not easy to combine clearness with brevity.

VI.

THE STOICS--A FRAGMENT.

The Stoics were one of the four sects of philosophy recognized and conspicuous at Athens during the three centuries preceding the Christian era and during the century or more following. Among these four sects, the most marked antithesis of ethical dogma was between the Stoics and the Epikureans.

The Stoics agreed with the Peripatetics (anterior to Epikurus, not specially against _him_) that the first principle of nature is (not pleasure or relief from pain, but) Self-preservation or Self-love; in other words, the natural appetite or tendency of all creatures is, to preserve their existing condition with its inherent capacities, and to keep clear of destruction or disablement. This appetite (they said) manifests itself in little children before any pleasure or pain is felt, and is moreover a fundamental postulate, pre-supposed in all desires of particular pleasures, as well as in all aversions to particular pains. We begin by loving our own vitality; and we come, by association, to love what promotes or strengthens our vitality; we hate destruction or disablement, and come (by secondary association) to hate whatever produces that effect.

This doctrine associated, and brought under one view, what was common to man not merely with the animal, but also with the vegetable world; a plant was declared to have an impulse or tendency to maintain itself, without feeling pain or pleasure. Aristotle (in the tenth Book of the Ethica) says that he will not determine whether we love life for the sake of pleasure, or pleasure for the sake of life; for he affirms the two to be essentially yoked together and inseparable: pleasure is the consummation of our vital manifestations. The Peripatetics, after him, put pleasure down to a lower level, as derivative and accidental. The Stoics went farther in the same direction--possibly from antithesis against the growing school of Epikurus.

The primary _officium_ (in a larger sense than our word duty) of man is (they said) to keep himself in the State of Nature; the second or derivative _officium_ is to keep to such things as are according to nature, and to avert those that are contrary to nature; our gradually increasing experience enables as to discriminate the two. The youth learns, as he grows up, to value bodily accomplishments, mental cognitions and judgments, good conduct towards those around him,--as powerful aids towards keeping up that state of nature. When his experience is so far enlarged as to make him aware of the order and harmony of nature and human society, and to impress upon him the comprehension of this great _idéal_, his emotions as well as his reason becomes absorbed by it. He recognizes this as the only true Bonum or Honestum, to which all other desirable things are referable; as the only thing desirable for itself and in its own nature. He drops or dismisses all these _prima naturæ_ that he had begun by desiring. He no longer considers any of them as worthy of being desired in itself, or for its own sake.